Release Me
by Hel83
Summary: Whilst investigating a plane crash Brennan and Booth come across someone who will go to any length to stop them. Slight BB.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Brennan's POV.

The smell of putrified flesh burned my nostrils and I fought back a wave of nausea as I opened my mouth and inhaled deeply. The sun was hot, burning the top of my head as I batted away low branches and climbed over fallen trees. Ahead of me, Special Agent Seeley Booth weaved in and out amongst the trees, and his galloshes splashed loudly in the ankle-deep swamp water. Carefully I retraced his steps, steadied myself slightly against the trunk of a tree as I stepped onto a marshy piece of land. I cursed under my breath and held the trunk with both hands as I tried to free my feet. Up ahead, Booth stopped and turned.

"You okay back there, Bones?" He lifted a tanned arm up and sheltered his eyes from the sun. I could see his t-shirt tighten over his biceps, and I swallowed hard as I fought to free my feet. In the distance I could hear the crackle of trees burning, and the whirr of fire trucks as they pumped water out.

Finally I pulled my feet free and let go of the tree trunk, quickly sloshed out of the marshy land, and closed the gap between myself and my partner. "Maybe we could go a little slower," I suggested as the handful FBI field agents that had been trailing behind us by about half a mile caught up with us. I watched them as they passed us, a mass of black t-shirts with 'FBI' printed on the back with big, yellow letters.

Booth nodded, turned and wiped a trail of sweat out of his eyes. "We're almost there now," he said as he climbed up a steep incline and held his hand out to pull me up when he reached the top. I didn't want to point out that that was the fifth time in the last half an hour he had said that.

"Tell me again why this is the FBI's concern," I asked as I brushed my damp hands down the front of my khakis and grabbed his outstretched hand.

Booth turned to regard me as I gripped his hand, his eyes narrowed against the sun. "DC received a tip-off late last night that a prolific drug baron was on board the plane, along with over $15,000 worth of heroin from across the Mexican boarder. The informant suggested that the plane was in danger, and at approximately ten-thirty this morning we received a call from the informant who said the plane had gone down."

As I climbed up to stand beside Booth, the smell of burning flesh and wood was even stronger, and I fought to keep the bile down that was rising in my throat. About a hundred yards in front of us was a clearing, blackened trees leaning at a dangerously low angle. The floor of the forest was black too, and crinkled underfoot as we made our way towards the service road that ran between us and the crash site.

The plane had split in half as it hit the trees. Where we stood I could clearly make out the broken form of the fuselage. Perhaps half a mile away I could see the tail section, which was stuck vertically in the soft ground. Beyond that I could see the faint glow of fire as firefighters fought to bring blazing trees under control. I moved closer to the fuselage, my eyes narrowing as I made out the charred remains of perhaps a dozen bodies scattered on the forest floor. As I crossed the dusty service road a man stepped in front of me.

"Dr. Brennan, thank you for making it as such short notice." The man held out a hand and I shook it briefly, the rough callouses on his palm scratching my skin. "Special agent in charge Robert Meden," he said as way of introduction, his hand dropping mine and gesturing behind him. "Early indications suggest about ninety people were on board, plus five crew. The plane was on an internal flight from LAX to New York when it crashed here. I'm sure Agent Booth has briefed you about the possiblity of narcotics being onboard."

I nodded briefly as I reached into my backpack and pulled out a box of latex gloves. I took a pair and held the box out to Booth, who also took a pair. "If you don't mind," I said, addressing Meden, "I want to take a look at the remains now. If I can at least start to identify which parts belong together, we can get them bagged together before they get sent to the lab." I dropped my bag at the bottom of a blackened tree stump and crossed to the first set of remains I could see, Booth close behind.

The first remains were those of an infant, and I said as much to Booth. I saw him pale visibly as I looked closer at the remains, picking up the charred remains of a left leg that lay a few feet away from the body. I studied it closely before placing it gently beside the body and flagging the remains to be placed together in one body bag. A young morgue worker, possibly no more than twenty, scurried over and began packing the remains away.

Booth stood, his face grim as he looked down at me. "It's going to be a long afternoon."

I had recovered twenty sets of remains - ten of them infants - before the sky began to darken and a dense fog settled on the area. Large spot lights had been set up to aid the salvage operation, but even the bright beam wasn't enough to penetrate the mist. I pulled off my gloves as the last set of remains of the night were bagged and labelled, and walked over to where Booth was stood.

"Meden's arranged for us to stay in town overnight," he said, falling in line beside me as I headed in the direction of the service road. I could make out the faint glow of police flares as we got closer. "The weather's turned down the mountain and it'd be too dangerous to drive back to DC tonight." He took my elbow as I tripped on a twig.

As we got closer to the service road I saw Booth's SUV and turned to him with a quizzical look. "How did you get your car up the mountain?"

He smiled as we approached his car and he opened the door for me to climb in. We had joined the mountain at a nature reserve approximately five miles from the crash site, the authorities saying it was too dangerous for us to use the service road while the fires were blazing. Now, with the fires extinguished, we could use the road that would lead us directly into town.

Climbing in the drivers seat, Booth turned the key in the ignition and turned to me. "I got a lift back to the reserve while you were working. Figured you'd prefer to drive rather than hike back down." He pulled away, creeping down the mountain side as the headlights from the car struggled to illuminate the way. Red flares sparkled on either side of the road, lighting the way to some degree.

I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. I thought of the remains I had found during the day. Meden had said that there had been school children on board the plane, travelling home after a visit to Disneyland. He'd told me to prepare myself for finding more infant remains.

When I opened my eyes again the SUV had stopped and Booth was looking across at me. I looked out the window, the fog denser than it had been up the mountain. "Where are we?"

"The motel, I think," he replied, gesturing to the faint neon glow of the motel sign. He climbed out of the car and walked around to the back. "I'll get the bags whilst you check us in.

I headed into the small reception area whilst Booth unloaded our overnight bags. As I opened the glass-panelled door, a bell tinkled above my head, and I heard the shuffle of feet coming from a room beyond the counter that ran the length of the back wall of the lobby. The walls were wood panelled, the carpet a light beige that had seen better days. The coconut mat under my feet was worn in the middle. I stepped off the mat and made my way to the counter as a short, balding man in his mid-seventies stepped into view. Wire rimmed spectacles dangled on a chain around his neck and he squinted as he grabbed them and placed them low down on his nose.

"Can I help you?" His southern accent was thick and rough.

"Two rooms were booked for my partner and I," I explained as I placed my hands on the counter. It was sticky, and I quickly moved my hands. "Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan."

The clerk held up a finger, signalling he would need a moment. I heard papers shuffling on the desk below the counter on the other side, and the man coughed a rough, phlegm-filled cough before addressing me again.

"Ain't got no booking for Brennan," he replied nonchalantly. "Booth is in room 5." He reached up to the wall behind him and pulled down a silver key. I noticed it was the only one left in a row of empty hooks, but a couple glinted in the harsh flourescent lighting on the row underneath.

"Can I book a room, then?" I asked, my patience wearing thin. I heard the bell tinkle and the door shut. Booth came and stood beside me, clutching our bags.

The clerk shook his head sadly. "Booked out," he told me as he handed the key to Booth. "Ain't no rooms available 'til next Wednesday." He pointedly looked at the clock on the wall, shaped like a cat. The tail swung as the seconds ticked by. He looked at us briefly over the top of his glasses before he turned slowly and disappeared through the door behind him.

I stood, hands on hips, and turned to face Booth. "Now what?" My patience had gone; I was tired and needed a bath.

Booth picked up the bags and juggled them both in one hand while he clutched the key in the other. "We'll share," he said with a shrug. He pushed open the door and stepped into the misty night air. "You can take the bed, I'll take the floor."

That didn't feel right to me, but as Booth unlocked the door to room five I knew there would be no point in arguing. He entered the room before me, dropped the bags and reached for the light switch.

"Or maybe not," he said as a dim orange light filled the room, illuminating two single beds pushed against the back wall, a small vanity unit between them.

The walls were painted a dingy shade of cream, the thick brown carpet pock-marked with cigarette burns. A small sofa and overstuffed armchair sat against the righthand side of the room, a black and white t.v. on a rickety table under the window. An open door led off to the left and I could make out the silhouette of a toilet. I let out an audible sigh of relief, although I couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable at the thought of sharing a room with Booth.

It wasn't that I didn't want to share with Booth. Not only was he my partner, he was my friend, and more recently I'd found myself having dreams about him that I'd not had about my other 'friends'. Dreams in which I found myself working in my lab back in Washington, with only the bones of a long-dead man in front of me. He'd appear suddenly, climbing the steps to the platform and snaking his arms around my waist. I'd feel his warm breath on my neck as if it were real.

"Bones?"

I realised that he was staring at me, his brow knitted together in concern, and I realised I'd been staring at the beds.

"Is this going to be okay for you?" That was Booth, always eager to please.

I nodded ferverently, picked up my overnighter and walked over to the beds. I chose the one nearest the bathroom. I set my bag on the bed and noted the large dark stain on the flowered comforter. My nose wrinkled in disgust and I simulatiously lifted my bag and whipped back the comforter. Luckily, the sheets underneath were clean and crisp. I set my bag back on the bed and unzipped it.

Booth was still stood in the doorway and I could feel his eyes on me as I methodically took out my clothes and hung them on the rail in the closet between the main room and the bathroom. I swiftly took out my underwear and stashed it in a drawer in the vanity unit as Booth cleared his throat behind me and made his way to his bed. Instead of unpacking his bag he flopped down and put his hands under his head.

"Any thoughts on the crash?" he asked as he stifled a yawn.

I glanced at my watch. It was already past midnight. My stomach growled in protest and I realised I'd not eaten since breakfast. "No," I replied, my bag empty. I clutched my toiletry bag in one hand, a soft, thick bath towel in the other. "I want to wait until I can get to the lab to look at the remains."

Booth nodded and turned his head to look at me. "We'll head up to the site in the morning if the weather's cleared. If not, we'll find out if there are any eye-witnesses, anyone who saw the plane come down."

I nodded my reply and headed for the bathroom. I ran the bath water as hot as I could stand and let a few drops of lavender bubble bath foam up before I climbed in. I scrubbed my skin clean before massaging shampoo through my hair, my nails scratching my scalp as I rubbed vigourously. Dealing with fresh remains always made me feel diry, contaminated.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, a puff of steam following me, I heard the gentle hum of the t.v. and soft snores coming from Booth. I smiled wearily before I climbed into the bed next to him, my eyes roaming across his prone body as I did. Reluctantly I turned out the light.

I awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee. I prised my eyes open, looked at my watch and grimaced at the earliness of the hour. I sat up and saw a cardboard tray holding two coffee cups and a white paper bag rolled over at the top. I slid out from beneath the cool sheets I slipped my feet into my flip flops and padded over to the bag. Behind me the bathroom door clicked open and I looked up from the bag of donuts as he flopped down on the sofa. His hair was damp and he wore a tan t-shirt and khakis.

"Morning, Bones," he said. I could feel his eyes on me as they roamed up and down my body. I suddenly felt prone, stood before him wearing nothing but a pair of short shorts and a tank top. "Help yourself. I found a diner just down the road selling probably every kind of donut imaginable."

I reached into the bag and pulled out a ring dusted in icing sugar. I sat down on the sofa next to Booth and grabbed a coffee cup. I set it down at my feet and bit into the donut. It was soft and sweet, and I relished the taste as I ate it slowly.

"The weather's lifted," Booth was saying as he spread his legs out and crossed them at the ankle. "You wouldn't believe what a dive this place is from the outside." He regarded the cracked ceiling and the burnt carpet. "Maybe you would."

I swallowed the last of my donut. "It's not for long," I reminded him. "I should get the majority of the field work done today and then we can head back to Washington."

Booth shook his head. "Cullen called this morning while I was out. The Jeffersonian can't accept the remains of all the passengers. The badly burnt ones are being kept in a morgue about three miles away from here while the others are being identified in a makeshift morgue up at the crash site. Once you've recovered the rest of the remains today you've been assigned to the morgue to identify the burnt victims."

"So we stay here until I've finished?"

Booth nodded and turned to face me. He smiled softly and gestured to the side of his mouth. "You have a little sugar on your cheek." He watched as I tried to brush it off, his chocolate eyes fixed on me. Hesitantly he raised his hand and brushed the sugar away. His hand rest against my cheek for what was a little longer than necessary. "You look beautiful."

The huskiness of his voice surprised me and sent a shiver down my spine. Booth's hand was still on my cheek and his face was inching closer to mine. My eyes dropped to his lips, so close that I could feel his ragged breath on my face. I inched my body closer to his.

The shrill beep of my cellphone surprised me and I backed away quickly. Booth's hand dropped from my cheek but the skin still felt warm. I stood and scrambled for my phone, pressing the button and breathlessly holding it to my ear.

"Brennan."

There was silence on the other end, a slight hesitation. "Sweetie, is that you?" Angela Montenegro's voice sounded distant and the line crackled slightly.

"Yeah, Ange, it's me. What's up." I turned my back to Booth, who sat on the edge of the sofa, hands on his knees. My face felt flushed.

"Did I interrupt something?" Angela asked, ignoring my question. "You sound...breathless."

I cleared my throat. "I was just having breakfast, that's all. Nothing important." Liar.

"Oh, okay. I just wanted to see if you had any idea when you were heading back."

I told Angela the plans that Booth had told me about earlier. "I probably won't be back before the weekend."

Angela was appeased by this, and she wished me luck before ending the phone call. I placed the phone carefully on the vanity and turned to face Booth. He averted his gaze from me when he saw me looking at him. Sighing, I headed to the bathroom to shower and change.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Brennan's POV.

By the time we reached the crash site the air already felt thick with heat despite the heavy gray clouds above us. As the SUV climbed along the winding service road the cloud seemed to lower until we were driving through fog. It wasn't as dense as the night before, and we quickly parked up in a row of similar vehicles. The heat hit me as though I'd slammed into a wall, and I shrugged off my jacket as I reached into the back seat and pulled out my field kit. Booth locked the car and waited for me to make my way to the front. His hand found my back and rested there as he guided me over fallen logs and through blackened trees. I fought hard to suppress the shiver that came from him making contact with me and concentrated on walking to the main crash site without falling down.

Morgue personnel swarmed around the shell of the plane. I counted three working on a set of broken remains that were flagged to the far left of the site, whilst a group of six huddled around a collection of flags within the fuselage. I scanned the area, looking for a place to start.

"With all these hands we shouldn't be here too long today." Booth followed me as I crossed to a flag six feet away from the main crash site. "The sooner you can identify the remains the sooner we can get back to DC. The heat here's killing me." He swiped a hand across his forehead for effect.

I slipped into the white overalls that had become recovery scene fashion and knealt down beside the set of remains. They were small, those of a child no more than eight. I gently examined the child, my gloved hands softly prodding burnt flesh. The child had been a little girl, and as I quickly worked I imagined all the things she could have been. She had been a dancer in life, visible in her ankle bones and her feet, and I pictured her twirling and leaping across a spot-lit stage as proud parents watched from the wings. A tear slipped down my cheek and I rubbed it away with the back of my hand before standing.

"Female, aged between six and eight." I kept my voice low and taut as I filled out an identification form and handed it to the technician nearest to me. I turned to Booth. "She loved to dance, and when she was five she broke the pinky on her left foot." My voice was softer, my eyes downcast.

"Bones, we don't have to do this, you know. We can go to the morgue. You can begin your identification."

I shook my head, glancing at the group still huddled around the fuselage. "It will be quicker if I do it," I told him as I pulled on a clean set of gloves. I crossed to another set of flagged remains. Booth followed me with his eyes, waited until I was knealt by the remains and then stood a little to my right.

These remains were those of an adult male, and I told Booth as much. "Possibly one of the teachers or a parent volunteer," I mused.

Booth checked the wrinkled manifest in my field kit. "According to this there were only four males on board the plane. Two were the pilot and co-pilot, one was a teacher and one a parent." He folded the sheet of paper and tucked it into his back pocket.

My eyes narrowed as I studied the victim's skull, devoid of all skin and tissue. I could clearly see areas where bones had been fused, around the nose and the chin. I checked again that the remains were male.

"Booth, this man had plastic surgery," I concluded. I pointed to the areas I had seen. "He had his nose and chin reshaped. Identifying this man isn't going to be easy."

By lunchtime I was in the county morgue, approximately ten miles from the crash site, in Springfield. I had been allocated a lab about a third of the size of my office at the Jeffersonian Institute, and I had to struggle to move around the examining table without bumping into the deep stainless steel sink and cabinet of instruments that stood on the wall opposite the door. Booth had struggled to sit comfortably on the chair pushed next to the cabinet and had opted to stand in the open doorway.

I quickly took photos of the remains as they lay on the table, taking several of the skull from different angles. I had set my laptop computer up on a wide shelf above the sink and connected it to a satellite receiver. As I downloaded the photos to the computer, I called up Angela. Her face quickly came into view on the screen, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Sweetie, are you there?"

I realised that I had set the camera too high up, and I stood back so that my face was just visible. "I'm here, Angela."

"Where are you? It looks like you're in a broom closet."

"I'm in the morgue," I replied. "This was the biggest office they had available. The pathologists are working at the community centre just down the street."

"Welcome to small-town America." She noticed Booth stood in the doorway. "Hey, Booth."

Booth nodded in reply. I turned back to the camera. "Did you get the photos I sent?"

"Zach's just pulling them up now," Angela told me. Zach Addy was my assistant, working for his PhD in Forensic Anthropology. I had no doubt that one day he would be running my lab. "Okay, what am I looking at?"

"The remains are male," I told her, walking around to the head of the examining table. "Approximately fourty to fourty-five years of age. What I'm concerned with is the skull." I quickly explained my theory that he had had plastic surgery.

On the screen, Angela nodded her head. "I agree," she replied. "It'll take me a while but I'll get working on a face and get back to you." She ended the connection and I closed the laptop. Then I returned to the table and began packing away the remains.

"Now what?" Booth asked from his position in the door.

I shrugged out of my lab coat. "Now we go and get lunch," I replied smiling. "I'm starving."

We drove back to our motel in silence, each involved in our own thoughts. Mine were about the body I had just worked on, and about how quickly I would be able to get an ID. I didn't know what Booths' were about, but he kept glancing over at me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know.

Pulling up outside our room I got out quickly and unlocked the door. The beds had been made while we were out, the stained comforter having found its way back onto my bed. I pulled some clean clothes out of the closet and gestured to the bathroom as Booth settled on the sofa, flicking through the black and white t.v. channels.

I stepped under the hot shower and washed away the dust and dirt of the morning, scrubbing my skin with soap until it felt sore. I dried quickly, changing into a pair of stone-coloured slacks and an olive green shirt. I brushed my hair, letting it fall in loose curls on my shoulders, and slid my feet into a pair of tan sandles. When I stepped out the bathroom I saw that Booth had changed into jeans and a pale blue tee.

"Ready to go?" he asked as I tucked my wallet into my pocket. I nodded and he held open the door. "I thought we'd walk, seeing as it's such a nice day. I saw a diner about two blocks back." He led the way.

Silence fell between us again, but this time it felt uncomfortable. This time I knew what both of us had in mind: the near-kiss.

"Are we going to talk about what happened this morning?" Booth was the first to speak.

I looked down at my feet, concentrating on moving forward. "Nothing happened this morning."

Booth exhaled sharply. "Okay then, what _nearly _happened this morning. When we almost kissed."

"There's nothing to discuss, is there? You said it yourself. We _almost_ kissed."

"Wouldn't you like to know _why_?" I followed as Booth rounded a corner.

"We had a moment," I replied, not really knowing what the 'moment' had been.

"A 'moment'?" His voice was shrill, incredulous.

"That's right. I was there, you were there... It was a moment."

"You can't explain it." His voice had a jokey quality to it. He was right, though. I couldn't explain it.

"It was the heat. The situation of sharing a room. You were just following your inate male tendancies."

He grunted. "Meanwhile, what were you doing?" We had reached the diner, and he stood with his hand on the door.

"I was..." I paused, not sure what I wanted to say. "Nothing happened," I finished lamely.

Booth grinned and opened the door, standing back to let me in. "You wanted to kiss me," he said in a sing song voice.

"No, I didn't," I told him, taking a seat at the far end of the diner.

"Yes you did!" He had a boyish smile on his face and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Maybe I did." I kept my voice low.

He opened his mouth to speak but a waitress approached the table, notepad in hand. She looked to be about sixty, her round body forced into the aqua blue dress she wore. A nametag attached to her dress identified her as 'Mindy'. Her bleached hair hung in a ponytail that swung from side to side as she regarded us. "What'll it be?"

I quickly looked at the menu and ordered a glass of lemonade and a club sandwich. Booth ordered a root beer and a steak sandwich, and the waitress scribbled the order onto the pad. She took the menus from our hands and turned to go, her tennis shoes squeaking across the blue and white checked linoleum.

"It's okay, you know." Booth's voice was barely audible above the din coming from the retro jukebox in the corner.

"What's okay?" I asked, genuinely confused.

Booth played with his paper napkin, folding and unfolding it. "If you wanted to kiss me. It's okay." His eyes never left the napkin.

I waited until Mindy had placed our drinks in front of us before I spoke. "Did _you_ want me to kiss you?" I studied Booth intently.

He nodded, looked up and met my eyes. "Yeah." His voice was breathy, and he took a sip of root beer.

I took a sip of my own drink, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt like a schoolgirl, declaring her love to her crush. "I wanted to, too."

His head snapped up and he looked at me, a small smile playing on his lips. He reached out and took my hands in his. "I'm glad."

At that moment our meals arrived and I quickly disentangled my hands from Booth's as our plates were set down in front of us.

We ate in silence, and when we were done Booth paid the bill while I waited outside in the hazy sunshine that was trying to push through the clouds. I heard thunder rumble in the distance, and the sun disappeared behind a cloud.

I peered through the window next to me and saw Booth queuing at the counter to pay. A woman who looked as though she had ten years on Mindy was slowly jabbing the keys on the cash register while a smartly dressed man waited impatiently, clutching a fistful of notes.

I began to walk down the street, stopping in front of a store that sold camping equipment. I could make out a couple inside, father and son, trying on hiking boots. My heart tightened as I thought of the parents who had lost their children in the plane crash. They wouldn't get to go hiking or camping.

Behind me I heard the screech of rubber against tarmac, and I half turned in time to see a blacked out pick-up truck hurtling up the road. It stopped so that the back window of the cab was level with me. The window rolled down a few inches and I threw myself on the floor quick enough for the bullet that came hurtling out to go sailing over my head and smash into the window behind me. Screams errupted from the store and I watched from my position on the floor as the truck tore off leaving tyre marks on the road.

I shakily pulled myself up onto my feet and surveyed the broken glass behind me. Shards had sprinkled the window display, and the bullet had lodged itself into a manequin wearing camouflage. I was examining the model's wound when Booth raced out of the diner towards me. He grabbed me by my shoulders.

"What happened?" he demanded, shaking me slightly.

I relayed the story of being shot at - not for the first time in my life - working on keeping my voice steady. I failed miserably, and when Booth pulled me into a tight embrace I didn't pull away. We stayed like that for a few moments before he gently kissed the top of my head and reached into his pocket for his cell phone.

I glanced back into the store as Booth talked in clipped tones into his cell phone. The young boy who had been trying on boots clung to his father, sobbing. The older man was obviously shaken as he attempted to soothe the boy. I watched them until I could hear the distant whirr of police patrol cars, and until Booth gently guided me down the street.

I didn't realise I was back at the motel until Booth sat me down on the sofa. He sat down next to me, concern in his eyes.

"You don't have to sit staring at me," I told him, leaning forward, my hands on my knees. "I won't break if you look away."

Booth stood and walked over to the window. He pushed back the yellowed net curtain and peered out through the dirty glass. "Someone's not happy about us being on the investigation," he said as he continued to look out of the window. He sighed deeply. "I want you to go back to DC."

My ears burned and I sprung up from my seat. "_What_?" I was incredulous.

Booth turned to face me. "It's obvious that we've rattled a few cages. Seems to me that there's something or _someone _up at that crash site that they don't want us to find."

My eyes narrowed as I thought. "The Mexican drug dealer?"

A nod. "Exactly."

"But we haven't found any evidence that he was even on that plane." The words slipped out of my mouth as my brain made the connection. "The John Doe who'd had plastic surgery."

Another nod.

"Do you have any records on him, any photos that would ID him?" My brain was back in gear now, and I paced across the room.

"That's the problem," Booth said as he leant against the wall. "Our informant didn't give us any names. If we had a name, we could've matched it to the body." He stood in thought for a moment. "If Angela can get a picture for us, we can get an ID, but likelihood is if he's changed his face he's changed his name."

I walked over to my bed and pulled my laptop out from underneath it. I quickly powered it up and checked my e-mail messages. There was one from Angela. I gestured for Booth to fetch the portable printer I carried from the SUV.

Moments later he was back and plugged the printer into the wall. It whirred to life and I printed out the image Angela had sent me. We sat on the floor by the bed for a moment, the photo on the floor between us as we studied the handsome features of the man we suspected of drug dealing. His nose and chin were sharp, his cheeks full. Angela had given him blue eyes and a head of blond hair, and I had to admit that he wasn't unattractive. I pulled myself up from the floor and grabbed my jacket.

"Where are you going?" Booth stood and followed me as I headed to the door.

"To the morgue. The records of all the people on the plane will be there by now. We can get an ID on John Doe and unravel who he really was."

Booth was hesitant. "Do you really think it's a good idea? Bones, people are _shooting _you because of this guy. Maybe you should stay here and I should go to the morgue."

Sometimes it was endearing when Booth tried to protect me. This wasn't one of those times. "And in the meantime I get shot at here? I've got a job to do, Booth. I'm going to the morgue." I opened the door and paused, my hand still on the knob. "Are you coming?"

Booth sighed, clearly fighting his emotions. "Fine," he said at last. "But I'm driving."

I smiled slightly and headed to the SUV.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Brennan's POV.

A handful of cars were parked outside the morgue as we pulled up. A soft rain had begun to fall and the sky had turned a deep gray . I shivered as I stepped out of the car and quickly crossed the parking lot. The fluorescent lights flashed as we made our way down the clinical corridor towards the main incident room. At one time it had been a staff canteen, but tables had been pushed back against the walls and a large whiteboard had been placed in front of the serving area. Smiling eyes stared back at me from above some of the names of the already identified. Question marks hung above those who had not.

Special agent in charge Robert Meden sat at one of the tables. There was an archive box on the floor at his feet, a number of manila files scattered on the table. His head was bowed as he read something in front of him. Booth cleared his throat, announcing our presence. Robert looked up, startled.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," he said by way of greeting as he pulled a pair of spectacles from his face. He rubbed his eyes wearily then regarded us again. "What can I do for you?"

Booth stepped forward, handing over the digital image of our John Doe. "We need the records for this man."

Meden frowned. "I haven't come across them yet," he said as he gestured to the box at his feet. "But please, help yourself."

Booth thanked the agent and picked up the box, setting it on a table across the room. Outside thunder rolled and a flash of lightning cast an electric glow into the room.

I picked my way through the files and finally found the one that I was looking for. I nudged Booth, who was looking at the report of one of the pilots. "Edward Ryan," I read aloud, indicating the picture to Booth. "Thirty-seven. A teacher from New York. Nothing to really note."

Booth took the report from my hand as another bolt of lightning lit the room. He flipped quickly through the pages. "This is our man. It says here he studied in England for his teaching qualification. We should contact the school and see if we can get a copy of his records."

I opened my mouth to speak but was interrupted by a deafening bang of thunder. The lights flickered briefly before going out, casting the room into greyness. From across the room Meden sighed and began gathering up the files he had been studying. Booth closed Ryan's file and tucked it into his jacket.

"Looks like I'm done for the night," Meden said as he collected his jacket and dropped the file into the box. "I'm going to get some rest. I suggest you two do the same." He looked pointedly at me, and I got the feeling that he'd heard about the shooting earlier in the day. I nodded once.

Meden retreated and Booth pulled out the file. "Come on, we'll head back to the motel and have another look at this."

When we pulled into the parking lot of the motel I noticed that the lights in the reception were out, as were the lanterns that illuminated the pathway in front of the rooms. I ran quickly across the lot, my jacket over my head as I tried to protect myself from the pelting rain. I fumbled with the key and stumbled inside, Booth hot on my heels. As I closed the door and secured it, he tried the lights.

"Looks like the power's out here as well," he stated, setting the folder on the table. He moved to the door, stopping my hands as I slipped the chain across. "Wait here. I'll run to reception and see if they have any emergency lights.

I watched him run across the parking lot, his back disappearing into a sheet of rain. I pushed the door to and walked over to my bed, pulled back the comforter in the same disgust I had the day before, and made my way to the closet to find my pyjamas.

Booth arrived as I fumbled to find my pyjama top, a handful of candles and a box of matches in his hand. He set a couple of tealights on the table and lit them. "This was all they had," he said as he made his way into the bathroom and dotted the candles along the sink. The small room was cast in an eerie glow, and I shivered unconsciously.

I waited until he was sat on the sofa and retreated to the bathroom, washing as best I could in the light and changing to my nightwear. I had no idea of the time. I just knew I was exhausted and hungry. As if reading my thoughts Booth called from the other room.

"Are you hungry? There's a couple of donuts left from breakfast."

I wrapped my blue silk robe around me and left the bathroom. Booth handed me a donut as I sat down beside him, my feet curled under me. We nibbled our food in silence, listening to the sound of the rain. As I finished the last of my chocolate donut, I felt Booth's eyes on me, and I turned to face him.

"Pretty eventful day, huh?" he said, the huskiness I'd heard earlier back in his voice. Again a shiver slid through my body. Booth shifted closer to me, his arm resting on the back of the sofa.

I nodded as I yawned. "I think the grand total of times I've been shot at is three." I tried to keep my voice light, failed miserably.

"Three times too many." It was more to himself than to me. "I'm sorry you've had to go through that."

I shrugged. "It wasn't your fault. You can't protect me all the time."

I heard hesitation in his voice. "I wish I could."

I turned to face him. His face was in the shadow cast by the candles, but I could still make out the sparkle of his chocolate eyes. I felt myself leaning into him, my body mere inches from his. I closed my eyes, waiting for my lips to make contact with his.

After a moment, when they hadn't, I opened my eyes, puzzled.

Booth was still staring at me.

Suddenly embarrassed at having read the situation wrong, I sprung to my feet. "I'm sorry," I mumbled as I crossed to the table and played with the edge of the manila folder.

He was behind me in an instant, his body pressed against mine, his hands on my shoulders. "Bones, please don't." He sighed and spun me to face him. "Please, look at me." When I didn't lift my head he put his fingers under my chin and lifted. I averted my eyes. "Please don't think that I don't want to," he explained, his voice quiet and soft. "I would give the world to kiss you right now. But this isn't right. This isn't how I imagined it to be."

I looked at him, swallowed hard. "You've imagined this?"

He nodded. "But it didn't involve you getting shot at and a power cut." He smiled and I melted, returned his smile and wrapped my arms around him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Bones." I let him guide me towards my bed, let him pull back the sheets and gently lay me down. As my head touched the pillow and sleep washed over me, Booth was pulling the sheets over me. He kissed his fingers and placed them on my forehead. "Goodnight Temperance."

When I awoke the next morning my head felt like a brass band was playing inside it, and I winced as I lifted if from the pillow. The torrential rain of the night before had stopped, and watery sunlight filtered in from a gap in the threadbare curtains. I looked at my watch and saw it was only seven. Cautiously, feeling the ache in my head move down my body, I swung my out of bed and slowly stood. At length I straightened and stretched, gingerly testing my muscles. A deep purple bruise the size of a quarter blossomed on my right knee, and my elbows were grazed.

I crossed to the closet and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a tee, dressing quickly in case Booth woke up and found me half-naked. I slipped my feet into a pair of sneakers, tied my hair into a high ponytail, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" His voice was deep and groggy with sleep.

I froze, my back to him, my hand on the door knob. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough. Where are you going?"

I blushed. Did that mean he'd been watching me while I was getting dressed? I remained facing the door. "For a run."

A rustle of sheets. Feet padding towards the closet. "Wait. I'll come with you."

He was behind me in minutes, dressed in an old FBI t-shirt and a pair of shorts. His hair was mussed from sleep and there was a slight pinkish tint to his cheeks. I led the way outside and stretched in the sunshine. Deep puddles littered the cracked asphalt of the parking lot, and we weaved in and out as we began our run.

We ran down the main street and into a small wooded park about a half mile away from our motel. The summer sun warmed my body, and as we paused against a tree I lifted my face to it and closed my eyes. When I opened them again Booth was laid on the floor, his knees drawn up and his hands behind his head. I sat down next to him, enjoying the stillness.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Booth asked as he turned his head to face me. "Living in the city, we rarely get to experience complete silence."

I nodded, pulling up deep green blades of grass and tearing them in half down the middle. I kept my eyes low, a feeling of embarrassment for the night before laying heavy in the pit of my stomach.

Booth shifted and sat up. I felt him watching as I continued to play with the grass. "Bones, are you okay?"

Again I nodded. "Just sore, and a little bruised, but it's nothing."

He exhaled loudly. "I didn't mean your injuries. You've barely spoken to me this morning." He paused and I stole a glance, saw his eyebrows knitted in confusion, his eyes downcast. "Is it because of what I said last night."

I shook my head, a little too hard as the band started up again and I winced. "No, it's not that," I said quickly. I wanted to reassure him. "Booth, I just don't know what to do. I have all these feelings towards you that I think I shouldn't have because we're work partners. Everytime I see you I want you to kiss me and hold me, and tell me that I'm yours, but I know that I _shouldn't _be thinking that." I breathed deeply and looked at Booth.

He was smiling. A wide smile that made me feel like I was melting. "You really feel like that?"

"Yes. And I don't know what to do about it."

He leaned towards me and I inched my body closer, well aware by now how the scenario went. He reached his arm out and placed a soft hand against my cheek. As he did, his cell phone rang. His hand dropped, and I was left feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

"Ignore it," I pleaded. Part of me was thankful to the early morning caller. Another part of me wanted to pounce on him and crush the phone under my foot. The sensible side won, and I sat back on my heels as he spoke into the phone.

Moments later he clicked it shut, stood, and reached his hand out to me. I took it and he hauled me to my feet. "That was Meden. They've just found evidence of explosives on board the plane."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Brennan's POV.

We raced back to the motel, breathless by the time we stood outside our room. I reached into my pocket for the key and slipped it into the lock. Before I even turned it the door swung open. I turned to look at Booth, a stunned look on my face.

"Didn't we lock this when we left?" I began to doubt myself, was about to make my way inside, but a hand on my arm stopped me. I turned to face Booth and found him holding his FBI-issued firearm, finger hovering above the trigger. "Where were you hiding that?" I asked incredulous as I eyed up his tight-fitting tee and his shorts.

His eyebrows wiggled slightly as he brushed past me. "Maybe you can find out later."

I blushed as he cautiously made his way inside, motioning for me to stay put. He disappeared into the room, moments later returning, the gun safely holstered. "It's empty," he said, moving back inside. I followed. "But whoever was here was after something."

The room had been turned upside down. The sofa had been upended, the t.v. smashed. The drawers of the vanity table had been carelessly thrown onto the bed, the contents on the floor. Our clothes had been pulled off their hangers and discarded like pieces of rubbish, and I could see a similar scene of destruction in the bathroom.

"Who would do this?" I made my way to the vanity unit and began to carefully put my underwear back in the drawers.

"My guess is it has something to do with Edward Ryan," Booth replied. I turned and saw him holding up the manila file, only now it was empty. I cursed under my breath.

"Now what?" I moved to the closet and started to hand our clothes back up.

"We can't stay here. Whoever did this knows where to find us. I'll try and find us somewhere else by this evening. In the meantime I think you should go to the morgue and finish identifying the remains. I'll drive you, then head on up to the crash site to see Meden."

I frowned. "Why can't I come to the crash site." I began to gather my kit items, thankful that I had hidden my laptop under the bed yesterday.

Booth sighed wearily. "Because, Bones, you'll be safer in a locked building than out in the open. There's more security up at the morgue." He glanced at me, his features softened. "No-one will get to you there."

I knew that there would be no point in arguing and followed Booth to his car instead.

The morgue was empty when we arrived, the only personnel being the security guard sat in the entrance. He was a short, stocky man who looked to be about fifty, and he nodded by way of greeting as I swiped my access card. I stood in the doorway and Booth handed me my kit bag.

"I'll be back at six to take you to the motel," he said, his hands jammed into his pockets. "If you need anything, call me." He smiled and reached out a hand. It lingered by my cheek for a moment before he pulled it away, aware that the security guard was watching.

I nodded silently and slipped inside. Cautiously, I made my way down the corridor, my ears tuned in to even the smallest of sounds. Once I was in the main examining area I locked my bag away and wheeled my first set of remains into the office I had used the day before.

I worked quickly and quietly, cataloguing injuries and distinguishing features before comparing them with the pile of case files that had not yet been assigned to a body. At lunchtime I dug an apple out of my kit bag and ate quickly, not wanting to waste any time. I then continued with my work.

At five to five my cell phone chirped and I quickly pulled off my latex gloves. "Brennan."

"It's me." I could hear the sound of a mechanical digger in the background. "I've been held up at the crash site. I'm going to be at least another hour," Booth shouted.

I sighed, looking at the pile of files I had not managed to match up. "That's fine. I have some more work to do here." I glanced at my watch. "I'll be in the lobby at six." I ended the connection and turned back to my work.

At six o'clock I had failed to match any more files to the remains. I tidied up my work area and scrubbed my hands before making my way through the quiet building. When I got to the lobby I found the security guard dozing in his chair. A line of drool hung from his chin. Peering through the darkness I could see a car parked at the far end of the lot and assumed Booth was waiting for me.

The night air was cool, a soft breeze rustling through the great elm trees that lined the street opposite. I studied the car closely but realised it wasn't Booth and turned to go back indoors.

The car sprung to life as my back turned and I froze, lit up in the headlights. I willed my feet to move as the car hurtled towards me. Part of my brain identified it as being the one that shot at me the day before, and I realised the danger I was in. When I finally found the courage to move my feet and yell out, it was too late. As I hit the bumper and was thrown into the air, my thoughts were of Booth.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Booth's POV.

It was almost seven when I drove slowly down from the crash site, my cell phone pressed to my ear. Bones' voice told me to leave a message, and I quickly told her I was running late and would be with her by seven thirty. As I approached the deserted highway I snapped my phone shut and tossed it onto the passenger seat, then turned the radio up and wound the window down.

The soft lilt of a woman's voice filtered from the speakers, singing a song I recognized, and I tapped the steering wheel as I sung along.

As I entered Springfield I spotted a neon sign for an all-night liquor store and pulled up against the curb. I smiled as I climbed out of the car and dug into my pocket for some change. She deserved a treat, and a drunken Bones might be a fun Bones. The store was empty, and I grabbed two six-packs of beer and a large bag of potato chips from a display by the counter. The cashier was a graying man in his late fifties, and I pondered how everyone in this town seemed _old_. It was beginning to feel like a retirement village.

I climbed back into my car and cranked the radio louder as a heavy rock song came on. I nodded my head and tapped my free foot as I pulled away and headed towards the morgue.

At exactly seven thirty I pulled into the morgue parking lot. As I pulled into a space I searched through the dimly lit night for Bones. I told myself she wouldn't be stupid enough to wait in a dark parking lot, and grabbed my cell phone as I climbed out of the car.

The doors that led to the entrance lobby were locked, the seat the guard had occupied now empty. I cupped my hands against the glass and peered down the dimly lit corridor. No sign of Bones. Sighing, I dialled her number and waited to be connected. Somewhere to the left a cell phone chirped into life, and my heart dropped into my stomach.

I kept my phone connected as I headed across the parking lot to an area of dense brush to the left of the entrance door. I could see the faint green glow of the phone's screen as I approached. I disconnected my own phone and jammed it into my pocket. The green glow vanished, but I kept my eyes glued to the spot where it had been. When I reached it I knealt down and picked it up. It was dented and scratched, the screen cracked. I pressed a button and a message popped up on the screen, telling me that I had called. I dropped the phone to the floor as though it were a hot coal and stood.

I pulled out the Maglite I kept for emergencies, tucked into the inside pocket of my suit jacket. I clicked it on and flashed the beam over a pile of debris in front of me. Broken glass glittered and the beam fell on a dark, thick puddle. Blood. _Bones'_ blood. And lots of it - surely too much for her to have survived whatever injury had caused it. My stomach churned and I leant into the bushes to empty my stomach.

As I composed myself my fingers flew across the keypad of my cellphone, and I wiped a hand across my mouth as I held the phone to my ear.

"Meden." I could hear the twang of Country music in the background.

"Sir, it's special agent Seeley Booth." My voice was thick and I fought to keep it level. "We have a situation."

It took three minutes from the end of my call to Meden until I heard the wail of police sirens as they approached the parking lot. I looked down at the puddle of blood, eerily lit up by the flashing lights from the patrol cars. My stomach rolled again and I turned away. Robert Meden approached, a uniformed officer on either side of him. Behind him I saw the blacked out van of the crime scene technicians pull into the lot.

"Agent Booth," he said as way of greeting. He looked past me and I stood aside so that he could see the evidence for himself. He motioned for the officers to leave him, barked instructions at one to get the CSIs over.

I stood back, watching as the technicians bagged the phone and collected the glass. I watched as they took samples of the blood and a lump formed in my throat. I didn't feel Meden approach until he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Go back to the motel," he said, his voice weary. "I'll notify you as soon as we know something."

I nodded once and headed back into my car. As I pulled out of the parking lot the light from my headlights lit up the puddle of blood and I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes.

I pulled onto the highway and looked out into the dark night. "Where are you, Temperance?"

Only a handful of rooms were lit when I pulled into the parking lot of the motel. I climbed out of the car and made it halfway across the lot before I remembered the two packs of beer on my passenger seat. I hesitated before I turned back to the car to retrieve the beer. Before I'd reached our room I'd popped the top off one of the bottles and gulped half the bottle down before I took a breath. The contents hit my empty stomach, and were quickly followed by the rest of the bottle as I locked the door behind me.

I quickly pulled off my clothes and climbed into the shower. Hot needles stung my skin as I leaned my hands against the wall in front of me. The tiles felt grimy but I kept my hands there and stuck my head under the stream of water. When the steam became to thick and I struggled to breathe I turned the shower off and solemnly dressed into a pair of boxers and a vest. I lay back on the my bed, the bottles of beer on the vanity beside me.

Sleep came after the fifth bottle and I closed my eyes against the room as it spun before me. When I opened them again it was morning. My head ached and I could hear the distant chirp of my cell phone. I climbed out of bed and slowly crossed to where I'd discarded my phone. As I picked it up I turned back to the beds. Bones' was unslept in, and the events of the night before hit me like a train.

"Booth." My voice was thick and croaky.

It was Meden on the other end, and as he relayed information to me I had already pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"We received a package this morning," he told me as I raced across the parking lot. "Inside it was a photo of Dr. Brennan and an earring. Booth, it doesn't look good, I'm sorry. You should prepare yourself for the worse."

I snapped the phone shut and angrily tossed it onto the backseat of my car. I thumped the steering wheel with my hands and caused the horn to beep. Curtains twitched in one of the rooms. I started the car and tore out of the lot, my tyres screeching on the tarmac as I did. I didn't doubt those curtains would still be twitching.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Booth's POV.

I was outside the morgue within fifteen minutes, having run through three red lights and broken every speed limit. The area where I had found Bones' phone had been cordoned off with yellow police tape, and I could make out the deep crimson stain on the asphalt as I raced into the entrance lobby. The guard who had been on duty the night before was stood beside his seat, talking animatedly to a uniformed police officer.

"I swear I never heard the chick leave," I heard him say, his southern accent thick. "At six thirty I did my usual sweep of the building. It was empty."

I caught his eye as I crossed the lobby and scowled, radiating the guilt I felt into anger for him. "How could you have not heard anything?" I asked, my voice low. "You see that puddle of blood out there? Someone _hurt _her." I bit off my words and jabbed my finger towards him. The officer sidestepped slightly and placed himself between me and the guard. I shook my head in disgust and stalked down the corridor.

By the time I reached the cafeteria my blood boiled. I was angry at myself for having left her alone, angry at her for not staying inside, and angry at the guard for not doing his job. I pushed open the door a little too hard. As it swung back and hit the wall, Meden looked up from his position in front of a whiteboard similar to the one being used for the crash victims. Only this time the only picture was one of Bones, hogtied and bound, her body laying limp and prone on a damp concrete floor. I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat and slowly crossed to the board.

Meden nodded and indicated the picture. "We received this at approximately seven-thirty this morning. The guard found it pinned on one of the entrance doors when he came in for his morning shift. There was an envelope also." He turned to a table behind him and brushed aside enlarged versions of the image I was transfixed with. He pulled out a small padded envelope and emptied the contents onto the table. It was a small drop earring that belonged to a pair I had bought her for her birthday. I'd never even noticed that she'd been wearing them.

I turned back to the photo and traced the image of her body with my finger. "Do you have any idea where she is?" I could make out a pool of blood under her head and my finger lingered there for a moment. My eyes narrowed. "It looks like some sort of cave."

Meden nodded again. "The mountain is full of them," he explained. "I'm sending search teams out to four sites located on the far side of the mountain, about ten miles from here. Chances are it will be somewhere within this area." He pointed to an area circled in red on a map under Bones' picture. "It's dense forest, easy for someone to come and go without being recognised."

I stared at the area. "I'm going with you."

"Agent Booth, I recommend that you stay here. You're too close to this investigation."

I turned to face the older agent. He appeared to have aged since we began working together at the beginning of the week. I kept my voice firm as I spoke to him. "I'm not asking for your recommendation, sir. I'm not even asking for your permission. I am telling you that I am going out with the search teams, and I will find her."

I turned on my heel and began to make my way out of the cafeteria.

"Agent Booth." It was Meden. I stopped and slowly turned. "Edward Ryan? He's been dead since 1972. He was three months old. Looks like you and Dr. Brennan were right about him after all." He turned back to the whiteboard, his hands on his hips.

Images of Ryan's altered face flashed through my mind, along with the description of the truck that had shot at Bones. I had no doubt that they were linked, and that if she were alive, Temperance Brennan would be in serious danger. I sent a prayer up to God as I made my way back to my car.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Brennan's POV.

As I prised open my eyes sparks of sunlight sent pain flashing down my optic nerve. It bounced around my skull and I winced as a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. I shut my eyes and breathed deep. I was laid on my left side, my cheek pressed into the cold, sticky earth. I could taste blood on my lips, and I gingerly tried to lift my right hand to my face. I yelped as pain radiated through my arm, my hands bound together at the wrist, thick heavy cord biting into the skin. I tried to move my feet and found they had met the same fate.

Cautiously I opened my eyes again. Bile rose in my throat as pain seered through my head again, and I gulped in great lungfuls of air. From my position on the floor I could vaguely make out that I was in some sort of cell. The walls were carved out of rock and were cold and damp against my back. The floor appeared to be much of the same. Before me I could make out the thick iron bars of the cell door. I felt like an animal trapped in a cage.

I breathed deep again and willed myself up into a sitting position. This time the bile rose in my throat and spilled out between my bloody lips, and I whimpered as the acid stung my grazed skin. I had managed to haul myself up so that my back was flat against the wall, my legs spread in front of me. I shivered as the damp floor soaked through the seat of my pants.

My ears strained in the silence, seeking out and separating the sounds that echoed around my cage. I could hear the distant drip of water and the call of birds from somewhere outside. The cage appeared to be located near the mouth of a cave, and I could hear the swish of trees on the rock face outside. Then I heard the rumble of a car approaching and heard the slam of a door. I opened my mouth to shout but my voice was strained, my throat sore.

"Help!" My whisper barely echoed around the cage.

Footsteps approached and a figure stood in the mouth of the cave. From the broadness of the shoulders I could see it was a man, although his features were cast in shadow.

"No use shoutin', little lady. Ain't nobody around for miles." The voice was a deep, southern rasp that grated along my nerve endings. I shivered violently.

I watched as the man entered the cave, my eyes narrowing as I fought to make out his features in the waning light. He stood in front of the cage door and lit up a cigarette, the brief flare of the match highlighting a broad chin pockmarked with acne scars. I could make out the faint odour of sweat and stale smoke, and my nose wrinkled as bile rose yet again in my dry throat. I retched and coughed.

"Now, now, girl. You gonna make yourself badly, carryin' on like that." He pushed a small bottle through the bars. "Here, drink this all up."

I eyed the bottle suspiciously before painfully scooting across the floor. My right arm cracked as I tried to straighten it, and I bit my lip to stop myself crying out. Blood pooled in my mouth. I scooted closer to the bottle and cautiously picked it up. I held it steady in one hand and unscrewed the cap with the other. I sniffed the liquid. Nothing. Quickly I downed the contents. Cool water dripped down my chin.

Stars danced in front of my eyes and I dropped the bottle. Realisation washed over me and I looked at my captor.

"Please, no." My voice was barely a whisper as unconsciousness washed over me and my body slumped to the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Booth's POV.

The climb up the mountain was slow and tedious. My hands tapped impatiently against my steering wheel as the van in front of me crawled and bumped its way along the windy service road. Thick forest surrounded us on either side. I could smell the heady scent of pine on the warm breeze coming through the open window and in different circumstances I would have considered the area beautiful.

A mile ahead the road twisted sharply and began a steep incline. I halted briefly to distance myself from the van, then followed, maintaining the distance between us. The breeze dropped and the sun disappeared under a canopy of branches as they reached out to touch each other. I shivered slightly and rolled up the window.

The van disappeared to the left and I followed, pulling into a small parking lot. In the corner of the lot an elderly couple were tying on hiking boots, and they looked up briefly as the convoy behind me pulled to a halt.

Robert Meden stepped out of the passenger side of the van that was parked to the left of me. He straightened his windbreaker and adjusted his shades before tapping against my closed window. I rolled it down and leant out slightly.

"You'll be with group one," he informed me, his hands deep in the pockets of his suit trousers. "Agent Frost will be leading the way. You stick with him."

I nodded and rolled up the window as he walked away. I grabbed my gun out of the glove compartment and holstered it at my waist. It bulged beneath my t-shirt, and I patted it reassuringly.

Group one stood in a clearing to my right. Agent Frost, a balding middle-aged man with skin that had spent a lifetime exposed to the sun, was leant against the hood of his car, a map spread out on top. He was gesturing to an area circled in red as I approached. With a voice hoarse from tobacco, he addressed the group.

"The cave is approximately five miles north of where we are standing." A leathery hand gestured ahead of him. "Going's gonna be tough. We stick together in groups of three. You hear _anything, _you stop. Got it?" He glanced around as the group of nine field agents nodded solemnly. His eyes met mine. "You're with me, agent Booth." I nodded.

As we began the arduous hike uphill I thanked God that I had chosen to wear a pair of thin khakis and a tee. All around me agents stripped off their windbreakers and mopped their brows. They had been unprepared for the task at hand when they had dressed that morning. I glanced at agent Frost who was matching his pace with mine. He caught my gaze and held it for a moment. It was enough for me to read the pity that lay there, and I realised that he viewed this as a recovery operation. To him, Bones was already dead. He was simply there to locate her remains. Anger bubbled inside me and I looked away. I quickened my pace and left him trailing behind.

It was early afternoon when we finally reached the top of the hill. We stopped briefly as one of the agents passed around bottles of water and apples, and I ate hungrily despite the fear that churned in my stomach. I sat down at the base of a grand pine and rested my head back against the rough trunk. I closed my eyes and images of Bones fluttered through my mind. I saw her flushed face when we'd come so close to kissing the first night in the motel. I saw her body slick with sweat after our run. I saw her bound and gagged, her body broken. My eyes snapped open.

Empty bottles were being packed back into the agents rucksack. Frost stood on a tree stump, elevating himself above us as we gathered back together.

"We're about a half mile away from the cave now," he said, hands on hips. "We go in slow. Don't be complacent, folks. We don't know the full extent of what we're dealing with." He hopped off the stump and began walking again. I quickened my pace until I was inline with him. I felt his eyes on me but didn't meet his gaze. I concentrated instead on the path before me.

We reached the mouth of the cave as the sun began to set in the sky. Frost stopped us a short distance away, his keen ears perked like a dog as he listened to the slightest sound. I listened too but could only hear the creak of the trees as they bowed in the wind, and the faint hum of static from the radio one of the agents at the back of the group carried.

"We've found her...bad way...EMT..." The staccato message hissed through the static and the group turned to look at the radio carrier. He turned up the volume and listened. Meden's voice was the next we heard.

"Group three, repeat." The message again. My feet were already moving as I listened for their location. I turned to Frost.

"Where is that?"

He gestured to his right. "About a mile that way."

As I broke into a run I ignored the agent in charge as he shouted at me to go back. They had found her. They had found my Temperance.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Booth's POV.

I ran through the forest, led by the sounds of a ruckus up ahead. I head a gunshot and paused, my ears separating the sounds of people shouting and the roar of a motor engine.

"He's down!" The voice floated on the breeze and I began running again, picking up speed. Branches clawed at my clothes and I felt the middle of my t-shirt rip as pain seared across the skin of my stomach. I glanced down briefly and saw drops of blood begin to well in the scratch across my middle. Ignoring it I pressed on.

Soon the sounds of voices grew louder and as I climbed a steep incline, my hands seeking purchase on the parched earth, I saw the mouth of a cave. I could make out the beams of flashlights bouncing around inside and with renewed strength I rose over the top of the hill.

Three FBI agents were knealt beside a man pressed face down in the soil. One struggled with handcuffs as he bucked and flayed about. I slowed myself and inhaled deeply. "Is this him?"

One of the agents attempting to control the man looked up and nodded. "Meden shot him in the leg and he's still bouncing around." He ducked as the man got an arm free and lashed out.

I stepped forward then, my booted foot going down heavily on his wrist. The man let out a squeal and stopped moving. I could hear him whimpering like a child as the agent with the cuffs quickly tightened them around his wrists. He was rolled over and I studied his face. He looked to be in his late forties. The hair had receded back on his head and his forehead shone in the early evening sun.

"I should put a bullet through your skull," I told him through gritted teeth.

"Agent Booth!"

I looked up and saw Robert Meden stood by the mouth of the cave. He gestured for me to go over, and I hopped over the man laid prone on the floor. Stood next to the older agent I could make out thick iron bars that made up a cage.

"Is she in there?"

Meden nodded. "He kept her in some sort of cage. Boys are just cutting the bars now."

I raced inside in time to see the great door to the cage swing open, and I pushed through the crowd of agents gathered around until I was stood in the doorway. My stomach flipped and my heart wrenched as I took in the scene before me. Bones was pressed up against the far corner of the cell, her body slumped forward. Her hands were bound behind her back, her legs tied together at the ankle.

I was beside her in a minute. My fingers worked deftly as I tried to untie her, but the ropes were too tight. I grimaced as blood dripped down her hand as my actions caused the rope to bite deeper into her skin. I turned to the agents gathered at the cell door.

"Does anyone have a knife?" I shouted. No-one moved. "A knife!" I shouted louder this time as anger rose in my stomach. My voice echoed around the cave.

"Booth?" Her voice was weak and rasping. My head whipped around and I saw her eyes flutter. My hand went to her cheek and cupped it.

"I'm here, Temperance. It's okay." An agent hurried forward and handed me his pocket knife. I realised that the reason no-one had rushed forward earlier was because they thought Bones was dead. I looked over my shoulder and scowled. A few of the agents backed away.

The knife cut easily through the ropes around her wrists and her arms flopped to her sides like a ragdoll. I quickly cut the rope around her ankles and pulled her limp body towards me. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. I held her tightly, rocking back and forth as the agents in the cave sprung to life. They began shouting orders and each other and the walkie talkie crackled into life as paramedics were called.

I sat with her until an ambulance technician knelt down next to me and gently took Temperance out of my arms. I stood and watched as they checked her vital signs and strapped her onto a stretcher. They rushed out of the cave and I could make out the whirr of a helicopter as it took off.

The cave emptied out until I was the only one left. I stood staring at the pool of blood on the floor of the cage and let the tears fall down my cheeks until I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I turned to face Meden.

"Come on, Seeley. You should get to the hospital."

I nodded and allowed the older man to lead me back down the mountainside and into his car.

It was dark when Meden pulled up outside the ER in Springfield. Clouds hung heavy in the sky and a gentle rain had started to fall. The drive down had been silent as we both reflected on the events of the day. I turned to thank Meden as I reached for the handle of the door.

"She means a lot to you, doesn't she?" It was a question that required no answer, but I nodded. "Keep her safe, Booth. She's an amazing woman."

I climbed out of the car and watched him drive away, the rain soaking through my clothes. When I could no longer make out his tail lights I turned and entered the harsh brightness of the hospital. At the front desk I was ushered into a side room and the scratch on my stomach was cleaned. The nurse chatted brightly as she worked. I watched as her nimble fingers swabbed my wound and applied dressing. When she had finished she offered to take me to Bones.

She led me down a series of corridors and into an elevator before we made it to intensive care. She left me there and another nurse stepped forward.

"Are you here to see Dr. Brennan?" The nurse studied me closely.

I swallowed hard. "Yes." My voice sounded strained.

The nurse nodded and placed a guiding hand on my arm as she led me down another corridor and into a side room. I could hear the beep of machinery as my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. Bones was propped against pillows, an oxygen tube running up her side to her nose. Her right arm had been set in plaster and a bandage had been placed around her head.

I stepped closer to the bed and took her left hand in mine. A doctor stood at the bottom of the bed and he cleared his throat gently.

"Dr. Brennan's unconscious at the moment," he explained when I turned to face him. "She has a couple of cracked ribs and a nasty head wound. There's bruising across her waist consistent with being hit by a car."

My stomach rolled. "Will she be okay?"

The doctor nodded. "It may take some time but we don't expect any further complications. It may take her some time to regain consciousness though. It's her body's way of healing." He placed the clipboard he had been writing on at the foot of the bed and turned to leave.

"Thank you." The doctor nodded and closed the door silently behind him.

I turned back to face Bones. She looked so fragile, so broken. I sat and weeped until exhaustion took hold and I slipped into a restless sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Brennan's POV.

When I opened my eyes I found myself staring at a white ceiling. I no longer felt the hard, cool earth under my back, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I realised I was in hospital.

I mentally checked off the injuries I had. I raised my right arm and was pleased to find it in a cast, and gingerly felt the bandage wrapped around my head. My ribs ached as I breathed in, and my wrists and ankles were sore from where I had been bound.

Gingerly I moved my head, wincing as pain sparked through my brain. The room was brightly lit and decorated in a soothing green. Vases of flowers had been placed around the room and I closed my eyes as I breathed in the intermingled scent of freesia, lily and rose. I opened them again as the door clicked and Booth walked in. He held a bunch of gerberas in his hand.

"I take it these are from you?" I gestured around the room with my free arm. My throat was dry and my voice came out as a hoarse whisper. When he didn't respond immediately I was afraid he hadn't heard me. I opened my mouth to speak again as he placed the flowers on a table and rushed over to my side.

"You're awake." His smile was wide as he took hold of my left hand. "How do you feel?"

I attempted a laugh but it turned into a splutter as my ribs screamed in protest. "Like I've been run over by a truck." I smiled softly. I gestured to the flowers. "Are these all from you?"

Booth shrugged and I watched his cheeks flush pink. "Mostly. The squints out-did me by sending that." He pointed to a majestic display of orchids and freesia. "The gift store's a little limited on choice."

I shook my head cautiously. It still felt like my brain was rattling around. "They're beautiful." We sat in silence for a moment until I gestured to the wrapped bunch of flowers. "You should get a nurse to put those in a vase. They'll wilt."

Booth grinned and saluted. "Yes, ma'am." I watched as he disappeared from the room. When he came back he was carrying a vase and had a nurse it tow. The nurse smiled when she saw me.

"It's good to see you with us, Miss Brennan." The nurse picked up my chart from the bottom of my bed and retrieved a pen from her pocket.

"It's _Dr_. Brennan," I told her as she brushed a strand of thick black hair from her gaunt face.

The nurse regarded me for a moment. "Of course it is. How are you feeling?" I repeated what I had told Booth five minutes earlier but she failed to see the funny side. "Right, well, do you think you could manage something to eat?"

I opened my mouth to respond but Booth beat me to it. "Maybe she could have a couple of those little puddings?" He pulled his best charm smile. The nurse smiled in response, her iciness apparently melted by his smile. I knew how she felt.

"I'll see what I can do." She shuffled off and Booth set about putting the gerberas in the vase he'd found. When he'd finished he set the vase on the table beside my bed.

"My favourites," I said as I gestured to the flower. "Thank you."

Booth leaned forward and took my hand in his. "You know, I never gave up hope that we'd find you." He looked at our entwined hands. "Meden wasn't so sure, but I knew you wouldn't leave me." He glanced at me again. His chocolate eyes shone with unshed tears. I disentangled my hand from his and brought it up to cup his cheek. I ran my thumb over the softness of his skin.

"I'll never leave you." My voice was thick and low. I softly guided his face towards mine and he responded. He climbed onto the edge of the bed and lowered his lips to mine. As I felt his skin brush against mine the door clicked open. Booth pulled back and I narrowed my eyes as the nurse placed two pots of pudding on the table in front of me. She glanced at us each in turn then turned on her heel and left.

I looked at Booth. His cheeks had flushed again. He gestured at the pudding. "You want me to open one for you?"

I sighed, deflated. "I'm not hungry. You have them."

He looked like a kid who'd just been told he could open his Christmas presents early. "Really? You're sure?"

I nodded and laid back. I was beginning to get tired from the interruptions we experienced every time Booth and I got close. In the beginning I had been unsure as to whether kissing my partner was a line I wanted to cross. Now I had become frustrated and impatient. I needed the release.

As the day drew to a close Booth left to go back to the motel. He promised he would be back in the morning and would talk to the doctor about me being released. Before he left he kissed me chastely on the cheek, aware that the ever-friendly nurse was stood with crossed arms in the doorway to my room. I watched him leave and picked up a magazine he had left for me. I smiled at the title. Booth really did know me better than I knew myself.

"Would you like the tv on?" the nurse asked as she set a plastic bowl of chicken soup down in front of me.

I shook my head and pushed the bowl aside. "I'm not really hungry."

Hands went on hips. "You need to eat." She reminded me of my fourth grade teacher. "You've had a massive ordeal. Your body needs the food to heal."

I dropped the magazine down on the table and pulled the bowl closer to me. I struggled to hold the spoon in my left hand and took a small sip. The soup was watery and tasted little like chicken. I looked up at her as I set the spoon on the table. "I've eaten. Could I please have a bath now?"

The nurse rolled her eyes. "Only if you eat another spoonful of soup." My teacher must have retrained. Or at the very least had a sister.

"Fine," I muttered as I awkwardly spooned more soup into my mouth.

"Would you like some assistance?" The nurse didn't make an effort to move.

"I'm fine." I icily narrowed my eyes at her and took another spoonful of soup. Before I realised it I had drained the bowl. And I did feel better. I wasn't about to let the nurse know that, though.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" The nurse gathered my towel and toiletries from the cupboard by my bed. "Would you like a wheelchair?"

I swung my legs over the bed and winced as my ribs screamed in protest. "I'll be fine, thank you." I was overcome with dizziness as I stood. The nurse was at my side in an instant. Her arm gripped my free one as she gently led me out of the room and down the hall.

"Will you be okay from here?" she asked when the bath was full. She had untied the back of my gown and I sat with it wrapped around my body.

I nodded and she pointed out the alarm next to the bath before she left. I climbed into the bath, the hot water scalding my cuts and grazes as I sat down. I rest my right arm on the side. The nurse had wrapped it in plastic before she'd left to ensure I didn't get the cast wet. She had taken the bandage off my head as well, and I dunked my head under the water, letting the water wash over my whole body.

I gasped for breath as I emerged and wiped water away from my eyes. The wound on my head stung slightly as I patted it cautiously with the towel. I struggled to climb out, determined not to have to summon the nurse. I awkwardly dried myself and picked up the clean nightgown the nurse had left. It was new and pink, covered with little red hearts. I wasn't sure if it was hospital supplied or whether Booth had bought it for me. The thought that he had chosen nightwear for me made me smile and I felt my cheeks redden.

When I got back to my room the nurse was finishing up changing my sheets. She smiled as I dropped my toilettries on the chair.

"I see the gown fits." She helped me climb into bed and pulled the sheets over me. "Agent Booth was so worried he'd got the wrong size but I assured him it would be just fine." She smiled again, exposing a softer side I had not seen before. She headed to the door and bid me goodnight as she closed the door softly behind her.

I lay my head back into the soft pillow and closed my eyes. Alone with my thoughts I quickly drifted off into a deep sleep filled with dreams of Seeley Booth.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I own nothing here but the idea.

**Author's Note: **This is written from Brennan's POV.

A week later and my arm was beginning to heal nicely and my ribs were no longer sore. Reluctantly the doctor released me, and I packed up my belongings with a sense of euphoria. Never had I been so excited to get back to the motel, burnt carpets and stained comforters included.

Now I stood in the bathroom down the hall from my room. Booth had called from the hospital parking lot and I'd rushed as quick as I could to dab on some blusher and lipstick. I was disappointed that the hair covering my head wound chose to stick up, and I fought to pat it down with a damp hand before giving in. When I emerged from the bathroom Booth was leant against the wall opposite, waiting. I reached down and picked up my suitcase.

"The nurse said you were in there. Are you okay?" He reached out his hand and took the suitcase from me.

I frowned. "I'm fine. Just freshening up." I snatched my suitcase from his hand and headed down the corridor.

Booth chased after me and reached for the suitcase. "Bones, just let me carry the bag, okay? Go with me here. I'm feeling chivalrous." He threw me a charm smile and I melted. I handed the bag to him and he regarded me, his head cocked to the side. "Nice hair."

I narrowed my eyes and fell in line with him. "In case you've forgotten, I've been hit by a car and tied up in a cage." We exited the hospital and Booth led the way across the parking lot.

As he threw my bag into the back of his SUV, he shrugged. "I think it's kind of cute."

My heart melted. I didn't give him any sign that my heart was leaping for joy. Instead, I frowned. "I am not cute."

Booth started the engine. "You're cute. Now stop arguing."

I turned and stared out the window. I didn't want him to see the grin plastered on my face.

During the drive back to the motel I asked Booth about the air crash investigation.

"All the bodies have been identified. Meden did some digging on Edward Ryan and confirmed it was a false identity. It took a week before the guy we arrested on the mountain talked. He was working with Ryan and was due to meet him when he got off the plane in New York. When he heard of the crash he came out here in search of his contraband. When he knew you were in charge of identifying Ryan, he got scared. You know the rest of the story."

I nodded slowly. "So how did the plane go down?"

"Investigators found evidence of a bomb on board. Not enough to cause the plane to crash but enough to cause damage. The bomb was in Ryan's cabin bag. An electrical fault as a result of the explosion was partly to blame. It was an old plane. Its last mechanical check had been rushed due to a private booking. It was bound to happen. The explosion just sped up the process."

I thought of the young children I had recovered from the remains of the plane. Try telling their parents that it was bound to happen, that their children were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The guilt and heartache they were feeling wouldn't be appeased by this. The 'what if' scenarios wouldn't stop playing through their minds.

The car stopped and I shook my head to clear my mind. We were parked outside our motel room, and I felt giddy at the prospect of going inside. Never had I been so glad to see the place.

Booth moved around the car and opened my door. I smiled broadly as I got out and quickly crossed to our room. He handed me the key and I slipped it into the lock, pushing open the door. I inhaled deeply then wrinkled my nose. It didn't smell any fresher than the last time I'd been there. I stepped inside.

Vases of gerberas had been placed on every available surface. There were pink ones, orange ones, yellow ones. I turned to face Booth. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

He dropped my bag and led me to the sofa. "That's not all," he said. His grin was wide and I couldn't help but match it. "Close your eyes."

I obeyed and listened as he shuffled around. I heard the click of the light going off, heard the flare of a match. I felt Booths hands on mine, felt him gently lift me to a standing position. Another click, and a soft jazz song I'd heard playing on loop in Angela's office a few weeks ago filtered into the room.

"You can open your eyes now." His voice was low, that familiar huskiness bringing goosebumps to my skin.

I cautiously opened my eyes. My breath caught in my throat. Booth had placed candles around the room. Orange flames flickered and cast shadows on the walls, and I imagined that we were miles away from this motel room. "Booth..."

He placed a finger to my lips. "I told you I wanted our first kiss to be special." He moved his finger and lowered his head. My good arm wrapped around his waist as our bodies drew closer, and his hand cupped my cheek as his other arm went to my waist.

Our lips met and it was more than I imagined it would be. Booth was gentle but urgent at the same time, his lips pressed firmly against mine. I met his urgency, and when we parted I looked up into lust-filled eyes.

"You okay?" His hand dropped from my cheek to my waist.

"Yeah." I was breathless and I felt my face flush.

Booth pulled me to him and we danced. All my fantasies left my mind. Even with my writers mind I couldn't have come up with anything so romantic. As we swayed in time to the music I felt warm and happy. I had finally found the release I'd craved. As Booth leaned in to kiss me again, the world melted away. Tonight it was just me and him, and I didn't want it to end.


End file.
